The Fewest Expectations
by whowouldathought
Summary: Extremely small drabble on Daryl and Maggie. If you've read any of Creaky Floorboards, you know I ship them HARD. But this is a bit different. It could work in the same storyline I suppose, so maybe consider it a very abbreviated prequel. Takes place after the daycare run on Daryl's bike in Season 3.


Maggie hovered in the doorway of his prison cell, leaning one shoulder against a cool steel bar. She'd been quiet on the approach, not wanting to disturb anyone else at this hour of the night, hours past dusk. But she couldn't help disturbing him, not that he'd be asleep; she expected that much. And sure enough, there he was, propped up in bed against the hard cement wall, only one threadbare pillow against his lower back. There were at least three other pillows in that very cell on the other beds, but it probably hadn't even crossed his mind to grab them up too. No, Daryl was a man of the fewest expectations.

He looked up from the small, blanketed form he was cradling in his arms and granted Maggie a completely unreserved smile. Her own smile came reflexively, not so much from the tender scene in front of her as from that small moment of honesty she'd just received from a man who was usually so guarded.

When he spoke, his voice came out in a gravelly whisper. "You can come in. She just fell asleep, but I think she's staying that way for awhile."

She noticed the bottle he had leaning against his leg, which led her eyes down to his mud-covered boots. Right on the bed. She shook her head slightly, laughing internally. The scene in front of her was just too unreal. And that was really what had brought her here to his cell in the first place. She was amazed at this sudden connection he had made with this little person. Honestly, it was almost miraculous to watch the change in his priorities and sentiments in the last couple days.

Walking towards the bed, she kept her footfalls as controlled and quiet as possible. When she looked down at the tiny face peeping out of the blankets in Daryl's arms, she felt her heart melt a little bit. She could almost forget some of what was going on out there, outside the relative safety of the prison walls. For a moment, it seemed to her that other things might be possible besides just killing and running; a real life, a future. For just one moment, and it was heaven.

Daryl must have seen the enchanted look on her face because he grunted briefly and shifted the baby in his arms towards Maggie. "I don't wanna wake her, but you should hold her if you want."

Maggie didn't want to wake her either, but it was too tempting to enwrap this tiny being in her arms. She lowered herself gradually onto the edge of the bed, and she and Daryl spent several protracted seconds making the switch, but eventually Maggie had the small bundle settled in comfortably against her chest. She couldn't help the appreciative sigh that left her while gazing down at this angelic face. She looked up, locking eyes with Daryl, needing to share this brimming joy with someone else.

He was still smiling, but almost nervously, like he expected her to kidnap his new companion. It only delighted her even more. "She's an angel, isn't she?" Maggie whispered in awe.

"She ain't no angel. She's gonna be a real devil, I think."

"She'll need to be." Maggie wished she hadn't said it as soon as she did, letting the real world creep in like that.

But Daryl just reached over to adjust the blanket more snugly around the baby's face. "I'll watch out for her." He caught and held Maggie's eyes for a split second, and she knew he meant it completely. It was one of the sweetest sentiments she was likely to get out of him, and without thinking, Maggie leaned across the few inches between their heads and kissed him on the cheek. She could sense his discomfort as his first reflex was to flinch back slightly, but then he settled, and her lips grazed the coarse stubble of his cheek.

She must have held there a split-second too long because when she pulled back, he was looking at her strangely. She could see his eyes narrow, weighing what had just happened, but trying to ignore it at the same time.

"You're a good man," she told him, suddenly feeling the need to explain herself.

He looked down at his boots, shaking his head slowly and smiling ruefully. "If you knew what I was thinking, you wouldn't say that."

It took Maggie a couple seconds to catch his drift, and when she finally did, she felt both amused and embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, Daryl," she said, half-laughing.

Now he looked amused. "Don't apologize to _me_," he replied, pushing himself up from his reclined position and beginning to swing those dirty boots onto the ground. "Apologize to little ass-kicker. You're gonna wake her up with all your flirting."

Maggie guffawed as he slowly claimed the baby from her arms and rose from the bed. He took her over to a drawer he'd pulled from a bureau and lined with more blankets. Through her indignant feelings, she noticed this and how she'd read in books that people used to do that; recognized that somehow they'd come full circle, the past connecting with the future.

He lay the baby down inside the drawer, again meticulously rearranging the blankets about her, before turning back to Maggie. Now he really was grinning at her, almost devilishly. "Don't lie. You've been wanting to do that since the day you met me."

She guffawed again, but couldn't help but admire the unexpected sense of humor coming from Daryl. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"You know I charmed your socks off with my _ear_ collection." He returned to sit beside her.

"Ugh. Let's forget about that forever." Maggie felt a bit uncomfortable with how close he was now sitting beside her, a sensation she'd never had with him before, even yesterday on his bike. But the way he was talking with her now…he was definitely projecting some emotion towards her other than his usual indifference. But the real problem was she wasn't sure she disliked it. She _knew_ she hadn't disliked being with him on the bike yesterday. But that was just a necessary trip, and if she'd felt some mild pleasure at wrapping her arms around him, who could fault her?

"As long as I can remember other things." He was leaned back on his hands, looking at her with that piercing gaze of his. His face was as serious as she'd ever seen it.

Now she knew she was wading into dangerous waters, but she was too intrigued to leave him hanging. "What…things?" she asked hesitantly.

She knew what he was doing before his lips reached her, but she let it happen, cursing herself for a fool in the space of those seconds. Slowly, so slowly she thought time had stopped, he pressed his lips against her cheek as she had done only minutes earlier. But unlike that kiss, he let himself linger. She felt his breath brush her ear, and she shuddered in sudden, guilty pleasure. He pulled back, and she turned her face to look him dead in the eye. "What are you doing?"

"Just giving you a memory too."

And when he said it, Maggie couldn't help but detect a note of sadness in his voice, maybe regret, but over what, she couldn't begin to guess.


End file.
